The Importance of a Legacy
by SuperSonic Violet
Summary: OneShot. Yoruichi's unexpected departure has left behind an unforgiving Soifon. As she tries in vain to let go, there is one question that cannot leave her alone...


_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own Bleach or anything related to it._

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**_X-_The Importance of a Legacy-**_**X**_

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_"Red like blood.__  
__White like bone.__  
__Red like solitude.__  
__White like silence.__  
__Red like the senses of a beast.__  
__White like the heart of a god.__  
__Red like molten hatred.__  
__White like chilling cries of pain.__  
__Red like the shadows that feed on the night.__  
__Like a sigh piercing the moon__  
__It shines white, and scatters red."_

_-Yoruichi Shihouin_

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The young woman sat before that mirror, her grey eyes piercing its very centre as she glared, pointlessly, at the reflection staring just as intensely back at her. How she wished these pathetic dressmaids would leave her to herself, where she could try as hard as she like to imagine this horrid event right away. But no, today was of great importance for her, though she insisted it was such a day for her clan.

Today, the Onmitsukidou fell under her command. Her, the known protégée of a once great master – a goddess, in fact, but one which not she, and therefore neither her entire clan, could mention. Not ever, not ever.

"Soifon-sama, your kimono is ready."

The young woman called Soifon narrowed her eyes, that grey gaze sure to burn holes in the perfect glass. She envied the glass; it was calm, cold as ice, uncaring, bland – why was she, one with such a fitting personality, incapable of feeling the same? She wanted to be numb, wanted to be unable to feel those feelings inside of her, on the verge of boiling to the surface of her creamy skin. But no, not when such a mark – a deep dent – was left upon her soul, her heart, by her own goddess. Surely it was unfair – why was everyone but _she_ unable to move on from that incident, those years, that dear history that was nothing but a bittersweet memory? And there was that glass, oblivious to emotion, mocking her. How she wanted to raise her hand and strike the smooth surface – never smash, for an agent of the Onmitsukidou was silent, subtle; unlike the depths of her soul which had chosen to manifest themselves in the most insulting Bankai thinkable. Instead, she gripped onto the loose material forming the undergarments that covered her legs, just as they extended over her chest but not her arms, as the uniform for Corps Commander required.

She blinked, breaking that stinging competition and, maintaining her firm posture that demanded respect regardless of height, she rose easily to her feet and wordlessly extended her arms to the side, granting the bothersome dressmaids permission to help her into her kimono. Not that she needed help; her goddess was her mentor, her teacher, and since her absence, Soifon swore to never lean on someone's shoulder just so she could stand tall. She was independent; not to be undermined.

How she loathed kimonos; they were large, puffy, and wasted unnecessary space. Thankfully the Corps Commander was not indebted to such a burden no matter how high her noble ranking – though for as long as Soul Society's history knew, there was only one noble family that hereditarily held the title, and now, after The Incident, it instantly became the Fon clan. But now she had to wear her new uniform underneath said kimono; the top was a sleeveless and backless dress, only approved for the Corps Commander, and was cautiously slipped over her head by the dressmaids while she stood perfectly still; after smoothing down the skirt, each of her feet were lifted to allow the dressmaids to help on her traditional ninja's trousers, which melted over the skirt of the dress like a new layer of skin; a pair of black hakama were slipped over the trousers when she lifted her feet again, and instead of being tied with an ordinary white obi sash, they were tied with a gold one. It must have been to match this heavy kimono which dragged down her shoulders, but her keen posture was only hindered so much. It came down to her calves like a coat she had seen in the World of the Living, and was a rich amber covered in a black pasque flower pattern, symbolizing the Second Division of which she was to be captain as well. Around her waist tied a traditionally thick, black obi sash, with a single golden ribbon in the centre.

"You have forgotten my armbands," muttered Soifon.

"Oh! My greatest apologies, Soifon-sama, allow us to place them on for you!" The dressmaids were obviously flustered by how intimidating her character truly was, and flittered about as they recovered the armbands.

Soifon closed her eyes, hearing the whispers of the seven dressmaids in the dressing room they usually spent their free time in, gossiping away about the low-class noble family for which they were employed. Among their prickly murmurs, she could make out the more distinguishable utterances: "She actually spoke!" "I hear she hasn't in days." "Of course, don't you know?" "What?" "She hasn't spoken, not once since Yo-" That particular statement was interrupted by a drawling sigh from the woman at the front of the room, the subject of their hushed words. The dressmaid that had been speaking continued more warily, in what she hoped was a softer tone: "Not once since _she_ left…"

Soifon had most certainly not decided to waste her breath on the likes of them. It was a tradition for the Corps Commander not to wear any material over their arms or backs during battle – but it was something told to her by her goddess, one who had just decided one morning that her admiring protégée was no longer important enough. That wasted breath had been for the sake of defiance. Soifon was independent, likening it to freedom, and would so begin her own tradition instead of following an expired one. She had the power to. Not anyone else. Especially not her goddess.

"Soifon-sama, your hair ornaments are ready."

She made no move to acknowledge it, her closed eyelids not doing so much as flickering. She let the fainthearted fingers of the dressmaid part the front of her shoulder length hair, separating the majority that fell behind her ears from the part that hung in front of her shoulders. The dressmaids treated this as such a ritual, as if she were as delicate as the pasque flowers that danced over her kimono. She was not – not anymore, at least. It took a single brave dressmaid to move to her side and clamp the fronts of her hair each with golden cylindrical ornaments, placed tightly in line with her wispy, set eyebrows. Another dressmaid came forward as the other retreated, and proceeded to braid those front parts of her hair, until another dressmaid arrived and finished off the braid by attaching it to a simple, golden hoop. The same went for the second part of her hair until acutely symmetrical to the other. And then a last stepped up behind her and eased the back part into a thin, rectangular gold clip, covering the entire width the raven hair took.

Apparently, she was brave. "What lovely hair you have, Soifon-sama." When she was rewarded with not a single gesture, she bowed and feebly withdrew, going to hide behind her fellows. Apparently, she was not as brave as predicted.

The first dressmaid, who had parted her hair, approached once again to link up a chain protruding from the sides of the rectangular clip. It was carefully brought forward and hooked onto the golden hair ornaments. She stepped back, giving Soifon a few moments to admire herself. But all the young woman could think of, when she opened her eyes, was how she wished for her goddess to place her palms on her shoulder and tuck her head, leaning close to whisper words of congratulations to her pupil. The image was so vivid in her mind that Soifon placed her hand on her padded shoulder, imagining that a dark hand was beneath hers. Unknown to her, her eyes had lost their guarded air, becoming defenseless pools of grey ink, her eyebrows flickering upward. Thank goodness her fringe hung low above her eyes, effectively shadowing them as she yanked herself out of her reverie. The last thing she thought of before the procession arrived to whisk her away, was why this particular kimono evoked such feelings of longing.

"_Buzz buzz, buzz buzz… that's not a bumblebee I hear anymore. It's a hornet." _

Those were the words that had been said to her the night before her goddess's defection, complete with a pat on the previously-tender raven head; the last night she would ever see those eyes, the exact tone of amber as her kimono. She felt as though she was being watched by her goddess, and the thought disturbed her – her goddess was long gone. The reality struck her then and there. But tears refused to penetrate those wide grey orbs as she was helped onto the palanquin at the gates of the Fon estate. Soifon had gained what she had envied and desired: glass. Its cold was all that filled her mind and hardened her aimless stare as she kneeled on the floor of her palanquin and the netted, semi-transparent curtains were drawn. It hurt her more than she had anticipated. But that glass had yet to harden, to settle in. Her heart was unaffected yet, and until she let go of the thing – the goddess – preventing her from complete freedom, she had yet to be coated.

And so continued the palanquin, bobbing up and down between her procession of Onmitsukidou officers, as though it was afloat on a wide and lonely sea.

_**-X-**_

It had been a tiresome day. But it was now midnight as Soifon lay on the grassy earth, feeling the wind kiss her bare shoulders and disturb the leaves of the imposing trees while her eyes were lidded. This place, this clearing in the middle of the forest where she now sprawled, used to glow. It used to glow with the softest of sorts, given off by the enchanting pallor of the moon and buzz of the fireflies amongst the growth… as well as the bronze of her goddess. But, even as the moon shone and the fireflies danced, this place was darkened with memories of promises now broken and smashed, unlike officers of the Onmitsukidou should do.

"_Never smash, Soifon, even if it's in your nature. Strike, like the serpent, from behind."_

Another drop of speech passed on from her goddess and into her attentive mind. Her goddess would have been nearing this spot at a similar time, ready to participate in another lesson with her protégée, a being also akin to her sister. All of the Onmitsukidou's wisdom would be embedded in her mind, which was always eager to swallow up the daily teachings.

"_Soifon, listen, this is how you hold a sword."_

This clearing was where she could remember most of the things she had learnt, and had put them to good use during sessions stretching into the waking hours of the morning. And it was for that reason that she had come here to forget – the results of those sessions were now hers, and she could manipulate them at her disposal. She no longer needed that supporting warmth behind her, along her shorter arms which were always covered in black clothing, and firmed her fingers around the sword hilt with her own, twisting it and striking the air in front of them. No, she could lunge with her sword, and she could strike. She was no longer in need of someone to hold her hand while she did.

Her eyes flew open. She lifted her right hand, surveying the black and gold gauntlet encasing her wrist, letting her watchful eyes rove up the length of the sharp, deadly stinger that had seemingly replaced her middle finger. Her body was still adjusting to the new power within her, a power that she felt shameful to regard. She considered it a betrayal that her Zanpakuto would take on such a boisterous second form. But since The Incident, she had learned to never place deep trust in anyone but herself. And if she were to trust herself as she hoped she could, she could not let such obsolete things like memories corrode her mind.

"Sting all enemies to death," she said, her eyes narrowing, "_Suzumebachi!_" She sat up from her prone position and stabbed the ground with a vigour alien to her. A Houmonka, the hornet's crest, spread from the exact centre of her Shikai. It formed with a bright red glow before relaxing into a deep, inky black. And it was with this mark that she promised to slay that person… her goddess. Her bared teeth clenched horribly as her hair was blown around her by the wind, as though it were responding to her rage and mirroring it. Her flurry of hair reminded her of another piece of her past she needed to erase.

With a grunt, she heaved Suzumebachi from the forest floor. Turning her head to the right, she saw no fireflies, and therefore no glow. Satisfied that the cold was beginning to harden, she let her shape blur and disappear in a flash as she moved at the speed of sound back to her estate.

_**-X-**_

The pesky dressmaids had been ordered away. She would not have them near her. Today was the first order of business to carry out, one she had orchestrated all too consistently for just one week since her rise to the post of Corps Commander, as well as Second Division captain. And she was proud, for not even her goddess could halt her victories. Soifon, the paranoid protégée, was now the one in command.

She ran her tongue over her lips as she raked her layered ebony hair with a gold comb. The trimmed hair was still damp from the lengthy time spent scrubbing away at her skin until it was raw – she would erase the feeling that she was not alone in this world, this world that had the purpose specifically to spite her and eliminate her joys. A draught crept in through the circular window gouged high in the wall, but the burning desert that was her skin failed to even produce goosebumps. Again, she was staring holes into the cool of the mirror. Even after the expedition of the previous night, it still taunted her with its apathy. With a final stroke of the comb, she removed it from within her tresses and placed it neatly on the linen before her kneeling form.

"_You remind me of myself."_

Soifon refused to cut her hair, since it would then appear alike to her predecessor.

"_Really, Soifon, don't cut your hair just 'to suit my liking'. I'm okay with long hair."_

But if she allowed it to grow, she would still be following the orders of the woman who was her goddess. And she refused to do so. Then, by an act of utter impulse did she choose the most unusual hair accessory not yet seen by any of her new colleagues. Her fingers closed around a strip of thin, white cloth. As foolish as many would think it, she wished not to see her grown hair. Why does she not cut it? She wished not to appear before her officers as her goddess would. Why would she wrap it in white cloth? She was extremely firm in the wish not to lay her eyes upon that hair, especially not in the face of that despicable mirror.

And so, once again like she had just a week before, she rose from the cushioned floor. The pair of golden hoops that had held her hair together like glue was plucked from the linen, and the two ink drops of hair still visible beneath the cloth were knotted around them. The plain white gown that dwarfed her petite form was removed, to reveal her Onmitsukidou uniform, crisp and clean with a long, thick white obi. She turned around, her back to the mirror, with a grace developed from expert Hoho and, by default, from nobility. Her captain's haori was hooked on the tan wall. Her sock-covered feet made not a sound as she stepped across the length of the empty floor and slid the sleeveless haori over her body, leaving her lightly muscled shoulders bare. The straps of her traditional Chinese flats were laced up her calves and her Zanpakuto was held in her belt, and she finally presented herself to the lone mirror. Now it was her turn to tease its gleaming surface, with a feline smirk and the narrowing of her eyes.

That was the last reflection she saw before she disappeared with her advanced Shunpo, leaving a rush of upset air as she journeyed rapidly towards what was to be her first mission as Corps Commander.

"Captain! Captain! I didn't see you come! I thought you weren't-"

"Shut up, Ōmaeda. You shouldn't worry your puny mind over my affairs. Wipe that sweaty frown off your face and get a move on."

Marechiyo Ōmaeda was a spoilt mammoth of a man, though Soifon considered him more of a bucket of stale lard than the latter. She was careful to distance herself from her officers, for the very same reason her goddess should have. By separation and solitude, one can focus one's mind to the best of their ability and even beyond that – she was firm in this belief, for by not performing the slightest mistake of developing a relationship with those below her command, she would have spared them, as well as herself, delusions of unity and cordial affection. It was the only way for assignments to be carried out efficiently, and to be devoid of bias. And so, here she found herself, marching stiffly in front of her lieutenant of one week whose hardly-natural blubber quivered in fear of this short woman who commanded him. She knew that his father had served under her goddess at the same level, and it was by inheritance that he served the next Corps Commander – Soifon. Knowing this, she could not help but feel a sense of familiarity with that cowardly man, who had also inherited a position on such short notice.

"Let's go, Ōmaeda," she said, and without paying the slightest attention to his answer, they both broke into a Shunpo. She expected her officers to follow her orders; if they showed any resistance whatsoever, she would not hesitate to cut them down. She was not as lenient as her goddess had been, and her officers were intelligent to know this already.

Suddenly, after just six minutes, the pair skidded to a halt; Soifon needed not a single bit of effort to keep herself from falling, and while she crossed her arms, Ōmaeda fell onto his face, swallowing a mouthful of Rukongai's pale brown dirt. As he coughed and hacked and punched his chest in desperation, Soifon merely ran her eyes over her surroundings, until they locked onto the target of her spying. "Get up, Ōmaeda." She finally decided that his antics were less than charming.

A few patches of cirrus clouds hung in the bright blue sky over East Rukongai. In these parts of Rukongai, hardly trod upon or explored by civil souls, a jungle of barren hills and dry trees existed. The heat was near to unbearable, proven by Ōmaeda's continuous tugging at the purple scarf he wore within his ordinary shihakusho. The arid crag they stood on stretched over a large plain of land, and also below that hanging precipice crouched an entire camp of rebels, infamous for organising a plot to overthrow Genryuusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, which were the primary outer security forces. And it was her job, as Corps Commander of the primary inner security forces, to infiltrate the base of the rebels' operations.

"What's the plan, Captain?" wheezed Ōmaeda.

"Shut your mouth, you buffoon, we are on a mission," she hissed, laughable because the uncouth tribe below them was causing a ruckus. But the reason for quietening him was for her own selfishness…

"_I'm terribly sorry! I am supposed to protect you, but I lack the strength."_

"_Gah! That's the problem? There's no need to worry about it."_

"_But-"_

"_Soifon… if I say it's okay, then it's okay."_

"_Commander-"_

"_Hmm?"_

"…_Uh, sorry, Yoruichi-sama, I was just talking to myself."_

Aha, so that was why this piece of land was so reminiscent. The protégée had failed to protect her goddess from a gigantic hollow, and it had instead gone the other way, with her goddess protecting her. She was ashamed to have forced that idol into such an action, and the more she thought about it, Soifon still felt, to a certain degree, ashamed. Now, the thirst to be a greater warrior crashed upon her like a Kido spell. And it was through that memory, that Soifon finally had what she needed the entirety of these two weeks: an epiphany.

It was with that epiphany that she removed her sheathed Zanpakuto from the obi at her waist, picked the cord out of the knot it had been stuffed into, until it had no visible kinks, and slipped it over her head, letting the cord rest on her right shoulder and fall down the other so that her Zanpakuto was comfortably placed at the small of her back, like her goddess's had been. It was time to initialize the attack before time delayed; she drew the thin blade from its sheath. With the tiniest _ting_, it was fully removed from the encasing sleeve. She stretched out her arm, the blade reaching further. In an instant, a whole unit of Onmitsukidou officers, cloaked in black, surrounded the area. She then pointed her blade directly in front of her. It was the beginning of an execution.

"Go."

They followed the monosyllabic order, and leapt into the noise of the pit in unison. Cries of pain and fury spread throughout that hole, but she knew that none of them were sung by her men.

"Ōmaeda, I want you to join them."

"Oh! Me, Captain? O-okay. Here I go…" he tried to convince himself brightly, "down to fight… I'll make you proud…" He drifted off flatly.

"_Ōmaeda._"

"Ye-yes, Captain!" he burst, and jumped heavily from the hangnail that the precipice made.

Her epiphany had been that it was time to move on from that somebody… but she would always be her goddess. Always. She had promised them to be together for as long as they lived, fighting as comrades, as sisters. But it was a fact that had to be faced: the promise had been broken. Those had been her words:

"_It's a promise."_

Nothing could undo that. Nothing that she did, nothing that she said… nothing. Soifon lowered her blade and let it only just pierce the ground. Her goddess had prepared her to stand alone, and she would, but with the help of her Zanpakuto; a Shinigami and a Zanpakuto went hand-in-hand, of course.

But it was not only time to embrace acceptance; it was also time to acknowledge that it was because of her goddess that she was the warrior she was today. All of her skills were brought about and sharpened by the goddess. Below her vantage point, blood split the humidity of the afternoon air as the barbarians fought her effortless officers with a renewed anxiety. Below her was what her goddess had left behind and, most likely with knowledge, let it be passed on to the protégée.

It was a legacy.

Soifon had a responsibility, and it was to preserve and continue the legacy left behind by the former head of the Shihouin clan, her Goddess of Flash. She declared it final that if and when her goddess should return, she would not release hold of it. If the legacy had been given to her in such a manner, than it should rightfully remain hers. She acknowledged that her predecessor's job was complete, fulfilled, and now it was her, the protégée's turn. Upon her goddess's return, she would be more than ready to prove her worth. By then, she would have already changed.

_**-X-**_

"_Can I protect Yoruichi-sama by doing this?" She leapt up, curling herself into a little ball while spinning and violently piercing the air with her unreleased Zanpakuto. She prepared for another go. "Or by doing this?" She twisted her body around, jabbing the air recklessly as she went, ending off with her Zanpakuto pointing behind her._

_A warm hand settled on her shoulder, while another covered the hand clutching the hilt. "Listen, Soifon," said the voice of the Goddess of Flash in her ear. You swing a sword like this." She moved Soifon's arm holding the sword to point at the full moon. She then brought it down, the hand on Soifon's shoulder moving down to settle on her wrist as she directed it to hold the sword. "Right. Swing it like this!" They moved the sword in a shallow arc, pointing upwards again in a kendo move._

_Soifon realized what a burden this must have been, and pulled herself out of her goddess's gentle hold on her arms and resolved to somersaulting to a few feet in front of her, keeping her head faced down, saying nothing._

"_Don't brood over it like this. You're doing well." She spoke comforting words._

"_No, I'm not good enough." Soifon raised her head. "If I want to protect Yoruichi-sama, my strength… No, I'm lacking everything." She lowered her head again, in despair._

_A hand touched her head. "That's enough." Soifon looked up to find her goddess crouching in front of her. _

"_Yoruichi-sama…"_

"_You resemble myself," she said seriously. "I feel as though you are my sister."_

_With a nervous smile, Soifon said, "Words like those are wasted on a person like me."_

"_So that's enough." The Goddess of Flash lowered her head onto Soifon's knee. "There's a full moon tonight."_

_Soifon looked up. "Right," she said, noting the glowing orb and the falling pink flower petals from the surrounding greenery. She then noticed, with a smile, that her goddess's eyes were flickering closed. She laid a hand on the sleeping purple head. "I will always be by your side protecting you. Always."_

"_Yeah. It's a promise."_

_Soifon started, removing her hand. As she grasped those words, she smiled and gave a single nod. How happy she was…_

And then her mind carried her elsewhere, much later on.

_The corridor echoed as she ran through it, pushing open the various doors along the way to the main headquarters of the Corps Commander. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. The things she had been notified of… No, _no_, they were all lies, fed to her by jealous commoners. Her running became more eager, panicked, as she drew closer to the wide doors of the headquarters. There it was – the heavy sliding doors, which the truth lay behind. And she pushed them open roughly._

_At that moment, she was truly shocked, her eyes widening. She stepped further into the room, nearing the single step leading up to that low throne her goddess used to sit upon. She stopped at the step, easing out of the shock, her expression becoming passive. So it had been true: her goddess, a person whom she admired fiercely, had vanished, the betrayal all too clear. She pursed her lips. And those words she had believed…_

"_Liar."_

It was in the early hours of the morning that Soifon was jerked upright in her futon with a cry of pain. As she sat there, sharp intakes of breath barely satisfying her lungs, she was in a state of rare puzzlement as to why this dream – no, _vision_ still nagged at her mind. She could recall finally grasping the situation in the face of a realization just that afternoon… So why was this even on her mind? Should she not be thinking about her first mission as incredibly successful without having to lift a finger?

Her breathing calmed and her eyes settled back into their coldness. With a deep breath, she sunk down onto the mattress, her loose hair fanned out on her pillow. Even while asleep she maintained that impeccable posture, her body on alert and ready to strike if she was ambushed at random by a deranged reiryoku-druglord whom she had once cuffed and imprisoned in her teen years. But even with her hands neatly folded on her abdomen and her unwrinkled covers drawn up to her chest, sleep evaded her deliberately.

Agitated, she threw the covers open and hopped out of the futon, going to the closet at the end of her modest room. She pulled off her white sleeping robe, dropping it to the floor, and with unnecessary force snatched her Corps Commander uniform from the wooden hanger. It was scruffily slipped over her nimble body, along with her socks and traditional Chinese pumps, which were hastily tied. The last thing that caught her eye as she was about to slap the closet door shut was something belonging to her goddess, actually. That casual orange wrap-around jacket with the white shoulder-guards, the one the former Corps Commander had first met her in. Apparently, her small form had remained throughout the past century, since the orange jacket – which she had once gleefully tried on when she thought her mentor was not looking – was still loose on her, appearing bulkier than it normally would.

And shoving open the window, she set off towards the Onmitsukidou headquarters.

Above her speeding jet hair, Dawn painted the sky with her array of thin watercolours. Pillows of thick purple perched where Night still dominated, but only at various points in the sky. From the concentrated purple melted lighter shades of the same colour, until it blended with an almost dreamy gold, which by the mists of yesterday's night, was diluted with the faintest streaks of white cloud. As Soifon dipped her head forward, she landed in a crouching position on the roof of the bridge from the Onmitsukidou unit controllers' offices to the training areas. The ghost of a full moon was pinned in the sky, like a false shadow in the water of a spoon.

She swung herself down in the middle of the wooden bridge. There was something left behind that was the new source of her discontent. She mentally checked off the things she would be prepared for and how: a schedule of excessive training had been planned after dinner, not for the goddess's protection, but for her own reasons to prove herself; she had gained full control over her legacy, settling in but abiding the rules of distance from fellows; and she had accepted the defection of her goddess for the sake of that damned Kisuke Urahara, but the lingering question remained.

Soifon's hard expression crumbled, exposing the mess of a _girl_ that was left behind since the dreadful day two weeks ago. Her inner emotions, stifled for only a short while, leapt to the surface. How close they had been! She and… and… the Goddess of Flash. Why, she couldn't even mention her name. And the lessons she taught her – how they had been enjoyed, remembered. She longed to see the golden-eyed face of her predecessor, in that perfect grin, the only person she had been able to call family; her own brothers, exiled from the clan, envied her superior skills, and her whole life, people spoke to her from behind masks and curtains and axes. The only person was now gone, after unconsciously inspiring a young girl to grow. What would it take to bring her back? Would she have to spend her life searching? Why had-

That was it. The question she was literally dying to ask, although there was no one to respond with an answer she was looking for. No one could mimic the comfort brought to her by her mentor, goddess, idol…

_The even running of a peculiarly violet-haired woman across the very same wooden bridge, and suddenly she would evaporate into seemingly nothing as she set off at the speed of light._

Soifon's face crumpled into the most pitiful of expressions. Her lower lip trembled.

_The same woman drew her Zanpakuto, commanding her protégée to do the same. She lifted her arm skyward, and then bent her elbow so that her forearm was perfectly straight, matching her just-as-perfect posture, the blade jutting out, twinkling as the younger followed her instruction. She held her free hand out to her as her mouth moved with certainty in the uttered words._

A sob escaped Soifon's lips as she clutched at the fabric near her heart, struggling to restrain the moisture from pushing past her eyes. Her attempts were futile; the pair of inky pools was beginning to mist like last night's air.

_That woman stood before the glittering lake at the peak of noon. She turned her body to a profile view for her student, and holding her curled hand in front of her. An orb of purple light formed, and melted into the shape of a butterfly. A beautiful display of Kidou, complete with her signature mischievous grin._

Just a single tear, just a single drop of pain, crawled over the lower lid of Soifon's wide, confused eyes. It was ice cold; much like the glass of the mirror she had foolishly envied, and took what seemed an eternity just to complete its journey down her cheek. After a few moments of clinging to the edge of her chin, it finally dropped down, Soifon letting out a gasp of shock that she was… so vulnerable to emotion. That was another effect the goddess had on her. With a _tap_, it landed on the boards beneath her feet, but she stared straight ahead.

She sighed heavily as the moon faded into the morning sky. "Why?" she whispered as if hoping to receive and answer. The agonizing silence greeted her yet again, and she raised her trembling hands to her cheeks, unable to comprehend why… "Why?" She was desperate to know. She would have been capable enough if she went, so… She would rather leave behind this empty life, so… She raised her cracking voice.

Was it just because of the _legacy_ the goddess had left to her?

"Why didn't you take me with you, Yoruichi-sama?"

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"_Your shadow stealthily__  
__leaves nothing of where you go, like a poisoned needle__  
__that sews together my footsteps.__  
__Your light pliantly__  
__strikes the water tower, like a lightning bolt__  
__that severs the source of my life."_

_-Soifon_

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**Author's Note:**

**Thanks for reading! I do hope you enjoyed it.**

**Those were real snippets from episode 57, which inspired this fic as well as the two poems. This story may not feature these characters, but here's a happy birthday to Juushirou Ukitake (21/12), Toushirou Hitsugaya (20/12) and my friend The ixoxo (also 21/12) :3 On a brighter note: Yay!**

**Let me know what you thought :)**

_**~SuperSonic Violet**_


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